


That Sort Of Thing

by hathycol



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, M/M, The Great Livejournal Import of 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:58:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hathycol/pseuds/hathycol
Summary: Vimes learns something about dwarfs. Carrot doesn’t really learn anything helpful about humans. This is par for the course, really.Written for a prompt:Discworld, Captain Carrot, Dwarf-born Carrot doesn't understand why being attracted to other men is any different from being attracted to women, since in dwarf society demonstrations of gender are repressed completely and just making sure you can breed with your lover takes a bit of skill. It falls to Vimes to explain that Ankh-Morpork works a bit differently.





	That Sort Of Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2009. Forgive my younger self. Uploaded as part of shutting down my LJ.

“In your own words, Carrot,” said Vimes, with a sigh.

There was a tall blonde man down in the cells, officially in for the charge of Assaulting a Police Officer, and being tended by Igor for the slightly more technical charge of Being Stupid Enough To Try To Hit Captain Carrot. Although Vimes was of the opinion that anyone who tried to hit a copper had what was coming to him, Vetinari had recently sent a strongly worded statement regarding police brutality after certain badly-spelt complaints in The Times. As such, Vimes was trying to get Carrot to explain why, exactly, the man had attacked him.

“I don’t know, sir,” sad Carrot, and Vimes knew that with Carrot, this was exactly the case. “I was out on patrol with Corporal Ironfist. I said hello to Mr Green and his friend, and said how nice it was that they were walking out together today, and I hadn’t seen them out before. He then attempted to hit me and Corporal Ironfist, even after Corporal Ironfist restrained him.”

Vimes paused for a moment. “By walking out, you meant... Mr Green and a lady friend?”

“No sir,” said Carrot, brow crinkling. “A young lad.”

“Hang about,” said Vimes. “Did you accuse this Green of being... well... you know?”

“Do I know what, sir?”

“Walking on… the other side of the street. If you know what I mean.” Even as he said it, Vimes knew Carrot didn’t know what he meant, and was opening his mouth to tell Vimes that Green had been walking on the correct side of the street. “Okay, never mind. This Green... he’s a butcher’s lad, isn’t he?”

“Yes sir. Moved here from Sto Lat last year. I just thought it was nice he’d found someone, you know.”

Vimes inwardly marvelled at how Carrot seemed to know the life story of the entire city, and focussed on the problem in hand. “Found someone... like you and Angua?”

“Not quite like me and Angua, sir, but yes.”

Vimes paused again for a moment, looking for the right words to say. To any of his other officers, this would probably be easier, without Carrot’s earnest face on the other wise of the desk. Of course, this wouldn’t be a problem with any other officers. “Captain, when did you start congratulating people on this sort of thing?”

“Hrolf Thighbiter and Wulf Stronginthearm just the other day, sir.”

“And they’re both...”

“Both _dwarfs_ , sir.”

Vimes liked to think that in some respects he was more enlightened than, say, Fred Colon. Spending most of his life mostly working nights and drinking enough to... well, to drown out mostly working nights meant that he’d seen a lot of things that only Ankh-Morpork could offer, and knew perfectly well about the members of the Seamstresses Guild that didn’t necessarily wear dresses, unless the customers asked for it.

That said, it wasn’t something you saw on the streets during the day all that often, with the exception of the dwarfish couples.

The dwarfish couples?

“Carrot, aren’t all dwarf couples, you know, at the end of the day…” Vimes struggled for words. “End up being a mum and a dad?”

“Oh no, sir. Quite often it’s too busy down a mine to do things like that.”

“But they still get married?”

“If you find a dwarf you like well enough,” said Carrot matter-of-factly. Vimes tried to think it through from Carrot’s perspective, something that was surprisingly difficult.

“So, dwarfs don’t have a chat about, you know, that sort of thing? What’s under the chainmail?” Vimes tried desperately.

Carrot looked slightly scandalised, and even blushed slightly. “It doesn’t really matter, sir, as long as both dwarfs are happy.”

“Humans… don’t work that way, Carrot,” said Vimes cautiously, trying to think of a way to phrase it. “Well, sometimes they do, but you can’t point it out. They’re just meant to be... male and female. Not everyone is, but it doesn’t always go down very well.”

Carrot’s brow crumpled slightly. “Why not, sir?”

“Because...” Vimes thought for a moment of a way to put it without sounding too cynical, and realised he couldn’t. “It’s something that you just don’t talk about. Like everything else in his city.” He sighed. “That’ll do, Carrot. Go and stand down, and I’ll see you on the next shift.”

“I still don’t understand, sir.”

“To be honest, Captain, neither do I.”

\--

He went down into the cells himself, once he’d heard that Igor had finished doing whatever it was Igors did. Green was sat on the bed, looking sullen and ignoring the cup of tea that Colon had left on the floor for him.

“You’re free to go, Mr Green,” announced Vimes, opening the cell door. “But if you ever try to hit one of my officers again I’ll make sure you end up in here for a lot longer.”

“He shouldn’t have called me and Davey out like that,” Green muttered sullenly, creeping towards the open door. “I promised him it’d be better than Sto Lat. They threw rocks at our house, back in Sto Lat.”

“Did it occur to you that Captain Carrot was probably one of the few men in this city that was genuinely just trying to be nice?” asked Vimes wearily.

Green didn’t answer, just giving him a quick, disbelieving glance, and instead left the cells, leaving a trail of resentment behind him. Vimes didn’t entirely blame him. It had never been something that had interested him, not personally, anyway, but there was enough junk in the city without worrying what people got up to in private.

Unless it was a crime, which tended to be what most people got in to in their spare time. But that was different.


End file.
